Poetry: Christ In The Garden

While nature wns einking in stillness of rest, The last beams of dayhg"ht shone dim in the west : O'er fields by the moonlight to Olivet's bower, I wandered in deep meditation's still hour. While passing a garden, there feil on my ear, A voice faint and falt'ring from one that wob there: The voice of the mourner, aifected my lieart, While pleading in anguish the poor sinner's part. In oflering to heaven his pitying prayer, Hespoke of the tormente thesinner mustbear; His life as a ransom he offered lo give, That sinners redeemed in glory might live. I listened a moment, then turned me to see 'What innn of compassion this s'ranger might be, When lo. I discovered,kneli on the cold ground. The loveliest being that ever was found. His mantle was wet with the dews of the night, His locks by pale moonbearns were glistsning and bright:, His eyesin deep anguish to heaven were laised, While angels in wonder etood tound him ama-zcd. So aeep was his sotrow, so fervent hrs prayera, That down o'er his bosom rolled sweat, blood and tears: ï wept to behold him, and osked him his name, He answered, 'Tis Jesus. from Heaven I carne. I am thy Redeemer, for thee I must die, The cup is most painful but cannot pass by; Thy sins. like a mountnin. are laid upon me, And alll this deep anguish I sufler for thee. Iïieard with emotion the tale of his woe, While tears like a fountain in bitterness flow; The cause of his S'iffering to hear him repeat, AlTected my heart, and ï feil at his íeeU I trembled with horror, and this was my cry, 'Lord. save a poor sinner, O save or I.die !' He smiled whcn hesaw me.andsaid to me, Live! Thy'sins, whichare many, I freely forgive. How sweet was the moment he made me rejoicc. His smiles, O bow pleasnnt, how cheering his voice;I flew from the garden to spread it abroad, I published sahaiion, O glury to God. l'm now on rriy jmirney to rnafisiona ubove, My soul íuü of glory. oí pence. üehinnd love: ïthihk of the garden, the prnyers and the tenrs. Of tbat lovely stranyer who banished my ftars. The d;y of briht glory is rolling around. When Gabriel descending the trumpet shail eoun J; My sou! then in raptures of glory shnil ríse. Tn nnz'1 nt thp Ptmnger witli uncloudpd éyea